


think we kissed but i forgot

by thesaturnyear



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaturnyear/pseuds/thesaturnyear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens at your first house party stays at your first house party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	think we kissed but i forgot

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during 2x14 "Blame It On the Alcohol."
> 
> Not a prompt fill, but the Glee Girls Smut Meme - http://trainwrecky.livejournal.com/1320.html - inspired me to finally finish this.

“Fffuck you. All’a you!”

Rachel closes the front door on Mike and Tina and takes a deep breath. She’s still drunk and this is not at all what she wants to deal with right now but it’s her house and her party so she doesn’t really have a choice. The profanity came from the direction of the basement so she makes her way what she hopes is quietly back to the stairs. When she gets halfway down, though, she has to stop and bite her hand to keep herself from bursting out laughing at what she sees. It must be the alcohol because logically she knows that this is not really funny at all.

An obviously very drunk Santana Lopez is laying on the floor in the middle of the stage, clutching a bedazzled microphone and pointing it at Brittany, Sam, and Artie. Brittany is wearing Artie’s glasses and his jacket unbuttoned over her bra, Artie has on a hat that she really hopes does not belong to one of her dads, and Sam is trying to grab the microphone from Santana who just keeps swatting at him with it and glaring.

“Come on, Santana, it’s time to go home,” Sam says, trying and failing again to take the microphone out of her hands.

“Fuck you,” Santana slurs. “Go ‘way.”

“San,” Brittany says, bending down next to her and putting her hand on Santana’s arm. “Me and Artie will drive you home if you want.”

Santana pulls her arm away from Brittany’s touch and rolls over.

“No,” she says into the microphone, giggling when she realizes it’s still on. “All’a you suck!”

Her last word reverberates throughout the room and Brittany, Sam, and Artie look at each other helplessly.

Rachel sighs and walks the rest of the way into the basement, stopping at the edge of the stage.

“Santana,” she says, loud enough to get the girl’s attention, “you can stay here if you want to but you cannot sleep with my microphone.”

Sam and Artie both stare at her like she’s crazy, and Brittany giggles, but Santana at least drops the mic and lets it roll out of her reach.

“I guess that’s settled then,” Rachel says, smoothing her dress. She’s sobering up a little but she still feels like things are just happening and she’s not really sure how.

“I’ll stay too, if that’s okay?” Brittany asks, and Rachel nods. She’s grateful not to have to deal with this drunk, belligerent Santana by herself.

“A’ight, I guess we out then,” Artie says, gesturing to himself and Sam.

“Thanks,” Sam says, “for...” He trails off and nods towards Santana, and Rachel reaches out and squeezes his arm. She’s not sure of the appropriate response when someone thanks you for taking care of his intoxicated girlfriend and she’s actually at a loss for words.

Brittany leans down to kiss Artie goodbye, then he and Sam disappear through the door that leads out to the garage.

Santana is still laying on the stage facing away from them and for a moment Rachel thinks she might be asleep. Then she hears a sniffle and realizes Santana isn’t sleeping, she’s crying.

“Um, I’ll just go get some water?” She has no idea what to do about a crying Santana but she figures Brittany probably does, and they could all use some water right now.

She takes her time in the kitchen, because for some reason a crying Santana unnerves her even more than a drunk Santana. It’s been about five minutes by the time she makes her way back to the basement, balancing three glasses of water in her hands.

In the time she was gone, Brittany got Santana to move onto the couch, and to stop crying, mostly. They’re sitting there with their heads pressed together, whispering, and Rachel contemplates just turning around and leaving them alone when Santana reaches out her hand towards her.

“Hey,” Santana says, wiggling her fingers in Rachel’s direction.

Rachel steps over to the couch and puts a glass into Santana’s outstretched hand. Santana’s fingers brush Rachel’s as they close around the glass, then she reaches out her other hand and grabs onto Rachel’s skirt.

“Thanks,” she says, working to focus on her eyes.

“You’re welcome,” Rachel replies. Santana’s eyes are glassy and red from crying but Rachel can tell she’s being sincere.

She hands the other glass of water to Brittany, and they all sip on them in silence for a minute.

“So,” Rachel clears her throat. “This couch is a pull-out. Would you like pajamas? I’m sure you can both fit into mine.”

Santana doesn’t say anything, just looks Rachel up and down.

“Sure,” Brittany answers. “Thanks, Rachel.”

She sets her glass of water down on the end table and heads back up the stairs, continuing to her bedroom on the top floor. She decides to change first, and slips out of her dress, pulling on a tank top and shorts. This is going to be okay. A year ago she never would have imagined that Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce would set foot in her house, let alone be sleeping over. And while the circumstances are not exactly ideal, Santana seems to have calmed down so hopefully she’ll sleep it off and be better in the morning. Maybe she’ll make them pancakes for breakfast.

She pulls another pair of shorts and a t-shirt out of her drawer for Santana, then starts digging around for something to fit Brittany. She finds a longer t-shirt that will probably work, and a pair of pants. They’ll probably be too short for Brittany, but it’s the best she can do.

She gathers up the clothes, then goes into the bathroom and gets a couple extra toothbrushes and toothpaste out of a drawer. Dental hygiene is important.

+++

Rachel makes her way back down the two levels to the basement, but what she sees when she gets there makes her jaw drop. Brittany has her back to the staircase, straddling a Santana who is definitely not crying any more. Rachel wants to turn around and run back up the stairs but her feet refuse to move and her arms give out, dropping the pajamas and toothbrushes into a pile on the floor.

Brittany notices her then and climbs off of Santana's lap, then beckons Rachel over to the couch with an index finger.

"Brittany, what are-," Rachel says, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Making Santana feel better," Brittany answers. "Come here, you can help."

Rachel's body is definitely operating independently of her brain tonight because she walks over and kneels on the couch next to Santana. Her head is resting on the back of the couch and her eyes are closed, but she reaches out and runs her fingers down Rachel's bare arm, squeezing her hand at the end.

Brittany leans across Santana's body and whispers in Rachel's ear. "Kiss, until you have to stop." She indicates Santana's neck and Rachel's brain shuts down.

"But- I-" Rachel sputters, not sure how in the world she got herself into this and how she's going to get out of it. If she even wants to get out of it, which she's not exactly sure of, right now.

"It's okay, Rachel," Brittany reassures her. And then Brittany is gone, sliding down Santana's body and settling on the floor between her legs.

Okay, kiss. She can do that. Santana still has her eyes closed, thankfully, because Rachel is sure she looks terrified and if she’s learned anything in her life it’s to never let them see your fear.

She leans forward and looks at the spot on Santana's neck, right behind her ear, that she saw Brittany kissing a moment before, and figures that's a good place to start. She licks her lips to moisten them, then leans forward and presses her lips gently to Santana's skin.

Santana shudders at her touch and Rachel's face flushes. She sort of wants to see what Brittany's doing but she's also not sure that's a great idea right now. It's getting very hot and she doesn't think it's the central heating.

She closes her eyes and concentrates on Santana's neck, giving small kisses and gradually working up the courage to suck on her pulse point. But not too hard, she's afraid of what might happen if she gives Santana Lopez a hickey.

Santana seems to like the sucking though, so Rachel goes one further and bites, gently at first, then harder. Suddenly Santana's whole body bucks up off of the couch and Rachel knows exactly what Brittany is doing down on the floor.

Rachel wills herself not to look, because Santana in the throes of passion is just something she really really shouldn't see. She's about to go back to the kissing/biting thing she was doing to Santana's neck, when Santana twists her upper body and grabs the back of Rachel's head, pulling her into a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

+++

Her mouth is hot and she tastes like tequila. Rachel couldn't pull away even if she wanted to, because Santana has her fingers tangled in Rachel's hair, holding her head in place. Then suddenly she lets go, and Rachel feels Santana's whole body tense next to her. Santana lets out a moan that makes Rachel tingle all over, and she moves back into the corner of the couch. Only then does she dare look down at Brittany. At first she just sees a curtain of blonde hair covering Santana's lap, then Brittany lifts her head and pushes herself up to straddle Santana.

Brittany and Santana kiss deeply and Rachel just stares, afraid to move or even breathe. When they break their kiss, Santana leans over and presses her lips to Rachel's cheek. Her eyelids are heavy and her eyes are still glazed over, although whether that's a lingering effect of the alcohol or from the orgasm she just had Rachel can't be sure.

Rachel's about to stand up because this is getting to be a little too much for her to handle, when Brittany leans over and kisses her gently on the mouth. She can taste Santana on Brittany's lips, smell her on Brittany's skin; it's even more intoxicating than those pink drinks.

"Thanks for your help," Brittany says, an innocent smile playing on her lips.

"Um, you're welcome?" Rachel doesn't know what else to say. Ever since she walked in on Brittany kissing Santana's neck, her brain has been trying and failing to catch up with her body.

Brittany climbs off of Santana's lap then, and Santana lays down on the couch, resting her feet on Rachel and closing her eyes.

"Do you have extra blankets?" Brittany asks.

"What?" Rachel is still very confused.

"Santana has the couch, so I'll just..." Brittany points at the empty patch of floor in front of the stage.

"Oh! Yes. Blankets." Rachel gingerly lifts Santana's feet off of her lap and starts for the linen closet outside the bathroom, then stops. "You can sleep upstairs in my room if you'd like. I have a queen bed."

Brittany smirks and Rachel realizes exactly what that sounded like. And, well, Brittany’s assumption is not exactly wrong.

"That's okay. If San wakes up and I'm not here, she'll freak out."

"Oh." Rachel tries not to let her disappointment show but she's so turned on right now that she'll either have to take care of it herself or get Brittany to help her the way she helped Santana, and the latter sounds much more appealing right now. It's not like she's never thought about being with a girl, she just hadn't planned on experimenting until college. And she definitely never planned on her early experiment being with Brittany Pierce. (Or Santana Lopez. Although exactly what happened with Santana is still confusing. She'll have to journal it later to try to sort it out.)

She opens the closet and pulls out her dad's old camping sleeping bags and a couple of miscellaneous blankets. She spreads the sleeping bags out on the floor, then Brittany takes one of the blankets and lays it carefully over Santana's sleeping body.

"Do you want to change?" Rachel picks up the pile of pajamas she'd dropped on the floor earlier and holds a set out to Brittany.

"Not really," Brittany says, moving closer until Rachel has to tilt her head up slightly to look at her face. "Thank you for your help. With Santana."

Rachel's head is swimming; it's suddenly very hot in the basement and Brittany's cool blue eyes are fixed on her lips.

"I want to return the favor," Brittany whispers.

"Okay," Rachel breathes. Brittany is running her fingertips up and down Rachel's arms and she might still be a little drunk, she can't tell. But she lets Brittany lead her over to the sleeping bags and lay them both down.

She catches a glimpse of the couch out of the corner of her eye and has a moment of panic because even if she hadn't seen what she'd just seen anyone who has eyes and a brain knows that Brittany and Santana are, well, BrittanyandSantana.

"Is this-? I mean, what about Santana?"

"It's okay," Brittany reassures her. "San wouldn't want me to leave you hanging. And even though she calls you lots of names, she really likes your legs. Trust me."

It's hard not to trust Brittany, with her simple words and earnest face.

"Okay," Rachel says. "I trust you."

Brittany's already laying on her side next to Rachel, so she's barely got the last word out before Brittany is kissing her neck. She trails her tongue lightly over Rachel's skin, stopping to pull her earlobe into her mouth before continuing across her jawline to her lips.

Brittany is being very sweet but also very slow, and the gentle kissing is doing nothing to help the dull ache between Rachel’s thighs. So she pushes herself up and wraps her leg around Brittany's waist, flipping them both over in the process. Rachel's experience doesn't quite match her desire, though, and she falters, unsure what to do now that she's on top. Brittany grins a little sideways half-grin and her eyes flash. She presses her thigh up between Rachel's legs and Rachel rolls her hips in response.

"Just do what feels good," Brittany says when Rachel stops moving, her eyes fixed somewhere around Rachel's chest.

She lets out a shaky breath and rocks against Brittany's thigh again, a little harder this time, and Brittany shifts her body down so her center is pressed against Rachel's thigh. They rock together like that for a few beats and Rachel can feel Brittany's heat through her shorts.

The friction and pressure feels really good, and if the small noises Brittany's making are any indication, it feels good to her too. But Rachel's arms are starting to get tired from holding up her own weight, so she lowers herself down until the full length of their bodies are pressed together. She buries her face in Brittany's neck and breathes in the scent of her shampoo - strawberry, or maybe it's raspberry. Her eyes are closed and she concentrates on the feeling of Brittany's body, muscled but soft at the same time, and on the growing wetness and heat between her own legs. She bites gently at Brittany's neck, just because it seems like the thing to do at that moment, and then she feels hands on the skin of her back, under her tank top.

The hands are soft and sure, and in an instant Rachel feels cool air on her back as her shirt is pushed up till it bunches under her breasts.

“Hey,” Brittany says, her voice low. “Can we take this off?”

Rachel sits up to oblige but before she gets her shirt off, she notices that Brittany isn’t wearing a shirt at all, just a pink polka dot bra that pushes her cleavage up over the tops of the cups. Brittany must notice Rachel looking, because she reaches around behind her own back, unhooks the bra, and throws it up towards the stage with a flourish that makes Rachel giggle.

Then Brittany’s hands are back under Rachel’s tank top, pulling it up and over her head. That too gets tossed to the side, then Brittany’s pulling her back down until they’re side by side, legs tangled and bare chests pressed together.

Rachel suddenly feels a little self-conscious, topless on her basement floor, so she pulls one of the blankets up over them. It’s a bit too warm under the blanket but she’s grateful for the protection it offers.

“Okay?” Brittany asks, and Rachel nods.

Then Brittany is kissing her, full on the mouth, and Rachel’s hips start moving again of their own accord. Everything is wet heat and soft skin, hands skimming over tight abs and smooth backs and, finally, soft breasts. Rachel pinches Brittany’s nipple, like she does to herself when she’s alone in her room at nights, and Brittany lets out a soft moan. So she does it again, and feels Brittany’s thighs clench around her own. Then Brittany dips her head and takes Rachel’s nipple into her mouth, grazing it lightly with her teeth, and Rachel feels herself get wet in response.

She’s so keyed up, her whole body is on fire and tingling, and she just needs to touch and be touched. She snakes her hand down and fingers the waistband of Brittany’s shorts. They’re too tight for her to get her hand inside so she starts fumbling with the button. And then Brittany’s hands are there, nudging Rachel’s out of the way and undoing the shorts, giving Rachel enough space to get her hand inside.

She stays on the outside of Brittany’s underwear, at first; she’s never touched a girl (besides herself) and the problem with the buttons gave her brain just enough time for the self-consciousness to make another appearance. Then Brittany rocks against her hand and Rachel can feel how wet she is. Brittany needs her just as much as she needs Brittany, and that knowledge makes her self-consciousness melt away.

She starts rubbing Brittany through her underwear, in rhythm with Brittany’s own movements; then she feels Brittany’s palm skim across her stomach and pause before dipping under the waistband of her pajamas. Everything is still for just a moment, and the basement is quiet except for their breathing. Then Brittany pushes her hand inside Rachel’s underwear too and cups her, not moving her hand yet, giving Rachel time to decide.

Rachel swallows; her heart is pounding so hard she can hear the blood rushing in her ears.

“Yes.” It’s barely more than a whisper, but Brittany hears her and starts moving her hand. Slowly at first, using the heel of her hand to apply pressure to Rachel’s clit, and Rachel responds, doing the same to Brittany over her panties.

Then Brittany moves her other hand down and places it over the one Rachel has inside of her shorts, pulling it up until it’s hovering at the waistband of her underwear. Her eyes find Rachel’s and she smiles, then she guides Rachel’s hand back down, inside of her underwear until Rachel is cupping Brittany too.

“Just touch me like you’d touch yourself,” Brittany whispers. Rachel blushes at the instruction, but she takes two fingers and runs them over Brittany’s entrance. Brittany shudders at the touch, so Rachel presses a little harder, gathering up Brittany’s wetness and rubbing it over her clit.

Brittany does the same to Rachel, and it becomes a game. Rachel rubs in circles, Brittany rubs in circles; Brittany dips her fingers just inside of Rachel, Rachel does the same to Brittany.

They’re both sweaty and panting under the blanket and Rachel’s not sure how much more of this she can handle. It’s fun, but she’s practically aching for release.

“Brittany,” she breathes, and Brittany stops moving. “No, don’t stop. I just... I need...” She can’t get the words out so she kisses Brittany, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. Brittany takes the hint and starts rubbing circles around Rachel’s clit, building up a rhythm.

Rachel tries to reciprocate but it’s hard to concentrate on what her fingers are doing. She’s sure she’s screwing this up, badly, but Brittany starts rolling her hips against Rachel’s hand in time to her own rhythm.

Rachel feels a familiar tightening low in her belly and knows she's getting close. "Brittany, are you... I'm..."

"Shh," Brittany whispers in Rachel's ear, and then she feels Brittany's fingers slipping inside of her. She sucks in her breath at the sensation, then Brittany starts moving her fingers in and out, hitting a spot that makes Rachel's muscles start clenching. She comes a moment later, her walls pulsing around Brittany's fingers.

She bites down on her lip to keep from crying out, and as Brittany strokes her through her orgasm she feels Brittany's body tense next to her. Then Brittany shudders and wetness coats Rachel's palm.

She’s not really sure what to do, what happens now. Brittany pulls her fingers out slowly, and Rachel removes her hand from Brittany’s shorts, wiping it discreetly on the blanket. She rolls over and catches a glimpse of Santana, passed out face down on the couch. She's painfully aware now, of everything. She should go. She reaches around on the floor until she finds her tank top, then slips it back over her head.

She starts to extract her legs from under the blanket, when she feels Brittany's hand on her arm. She turns to look at the other girl; Brittany is laying on her back, blanket pooled around her waist and bare chest visible in the dim light from the stairwell.

"Where are you going?" Brittany says, her eyes fixed on Rachel.

"I should go." Rachel looks towards Santana, then up the stairs, then back at Brittany.

"Why? I told you, it's okay." Brittany looks at Santana and smiles, like she can sense Rachel's fears. "Besides, basements are creepy."

Brittany shivers and pulls the blanket up over her chest. Rachel knows she's being manipulated but she doesn't have it in her to care. Going to sleep upstairs, alone, doesn't sound that great to her, either.

She lays down on her back next to Brittany. The floor is hard under the sleeping bag and they both shift around a bit, trying to get comfortable. Brittany turns slightly towards Rachel, so her chest is pressed against Rachel's arm. She can feel Brittany's even breathing against her body as she closes her eyes and lets sleep overtake her.

++++

Rachel wakes up with a dry mouth, a pounding head, and a sore back. She doesn't feel a warm body next to her and when she opens her eyes, Brittany and Santana are gone. She’s not really sure what she expected, but she does make excellent pancakes.

Later, when Finn comes over to help her clean up, she finds Brittany's pink polka dot bra hanging off the backdrop of the stage. Her face flushes at the memory of why it’s there, and she quickly stuffs it into a corner so Finn won’t see it. What happens at your first house party stays at your first house party, right?


End file.
